Start spreading the shoes...or booze...depending on which one you prefer as a title /

Another Sunday, another blog entry. (See? When I make rules for myself, I stick to them. Sometimes. Unless they relate to chocolate. Or spending less money. Or moisturizing more often.)

I am on an airplane on my way home from New York City, where I intended to take a vacation, but where I actually spent the full two days trying to figure out the subway system. I missed seeing a reportedly fabulous musical because I waited patiently for over an hour for the express train…which doesn’t run on weekends. But, I mean, how the heck was I supposed to know that? I’m a tourist, not a psychic. Sure, there was a massive sign on every single column that said, “THE EXPRESS TRAIN DOES NOT RUN ON WEEKENDS. I REPEAT: THE EXPRESS TRAIN DOES NOT RUN ON WEEKENDS. ATTENTION: KATE HEWLETT. NO EXPRESS TRAIN ON WEEKENDS. YES, I'M TALKING TO YOU, DUM-DUM.” But how was I to know?

To be honest, the actual reason why I waited so long and missed the musical was that I was so engrossed in my book, I didn’t notice the absence of the train. What was this magical and all-consuming book, you may ask? Well, imaginary friend who asks all the right questions, the book is called “The Book Thief” and it is now officially in my top five books of all time. It is wonderful. (Damn sad because it takes place in Munich during WWII, but wonderful.) It’s one of those “maybe don’t read this in public” books, though, because on every other page I found myself welling up. In New York, I’m now known as the crazy random crying lady who waits for non-trains for over an hour.

I had yet another subway mishap last night, when I got on the Q train instead of the Some Other Letter I Can’t Remember Right Now train and ended up in Brooklyn thirty six blocks away from where I was staying. And it was 1:30 in the morning. I am awesome. I walked the whole way, though, so I got some terror-filled exercise.

The good parts of the weekend:

-the Bridge Theatre Company’s season launch party (and no, curious imaginary friend, I didn’t drink booze. Thanks for asking. I’m at day 22 of 28 days on the wagon! Maybe the longest I’ve ever gone…since high school)
-hanging out with Martin Gero (twice! That guy just keeps following me around. Buying me dinner, finding time in his busy schedule to see readings of my plays, introducing me to Bill Nye the Science Guy – so frustrating)
-MEETING BILL NYE THE SCIENCE GUY (who is very funny and charming, by the way)
-spending time with one of my oldest friends (with whom, coincidentally, I always used to get in trouble in Science class. I guess that’s why I’m an actor, not a successful physicist with my own show. Yeah, let’s blame her for that. Dana, it's your fault that "Kate Schmate the Science Date" isn't sweeping the nation.
-buying some fantabulous Steve Madden boots (story to follow)
-working with a great new bunch of people on the Swearing Jar script.

The boot story: my friend and I went shopping. I spotted, flirted with, fell in love with and then acquired a pair of grey awesomeboots. As I was walking out of the store already sporting said awesomeboots, I noticed that one of my feet was considerably larger than the other one. Being a woman and a Canadian, I blamed myself. “My feet must be two different sizes," I said, "and I've just never noticed it before. Oh well." My friend, also a woman and a Canadian, but with bigger cahones, suggested that I check the bottom of the boots. One was a size larger than the other one. My feet are fine. Not gorgeous, but fine. I exchanged awesomeboot #2 for awesomeboot #3 and now all is well.

Oh! We are about to land in Toronto.

Now I get to see my cats.

Have a great week…

k.
p.s. Those aren't my boots in the picture. I just thought it might be nice to include a picture. Of boots.